ILF 


20.    MUNRO   &   CO.,    137   WILLIAM   ST.,    N.  Y. 
C,  H.  Uuinby,  Wheeling,  Virginia. 


To  be  Issued  July 

MUNRO'S   TEN   CENT   NOVEL,  No.    70. 


TJ333 

FENIAN  FORTUNE-TELLER 

|>  Salt  of  t|t  Ivislj  lUplilir. 

BY    THE    AUTHOR     OP     "MAD    MIKE,"     "  MKXICAN    JOE,"    ETC.,     ETC. 


MAD  NANCY  is  a  capital  story,  ami  displays  in  tlio  author  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  characters  he  describes.  1  le  is  intimately 
acquainted  with  all  the  internal  workings  of  the  Fenian  leaders,  and 
depicts  in  glowing  colors  the  dangers  to  which  they  exposed  them 
selves  and  their  hair-breadth  escapes  from  the  same.  Mad  Nancy, 
whose  madness  was  more  assumed  than  real,  was  in  reality  a  repos 
itory  of  all  the  secrets  of  the  Brotherhood,  and  when  telling  the  for 
tunes  of  her  customers,  she  managed  to  get  possession  of  all  the 
secrets  of  the  enemies  of  the' cause.  She  used  admirable  lael  in  con 
cealing  not  only  the  secrets  but  the  persons  of  the  friends  who  fled 
to  her  for  shelter.  She  was  perfect  Mistress  of  the  Harp,  and  en 
tranced  her  hearers  by  singing  old  Irish  ballads.  As  a  novel,  this  is 
sure  to  be  successful.  It  will  give  an  insight  into  many  of  the  secret 
workings  of  the  Irish  patriotic  uprising,  which  has  made  itself  felt 
over  both  continents.  Some  of  the  characters  are  already  known  to 
history,  but  they  will  bear  being  repeated  in  this  form. 

The  Books  are  for  sale,  by  all  News  Agents  and  Booksellers, 
and  are  sent,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  piice— lOc.  each. 

GEORGE  MUNRO  &  Go,,  Publishers, 

137  WILLIAM  STREET,  N.  Y. 


BALLADS 


REVOLUTION. 


By  J.  C.   HAGKEN, 

AUTHOR  CF    "THE  FOOTPRINTS   OF  TRUTH." 

; 


Neto  Yorfe: 

GEORGE  MUNRO  &   CO."  PUBLISHERS, 
137  WILLIAM  STEEET. 


ENTERED  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1866,  by 
GEORGE  MUNEO  &  CO., 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States, 
for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York, 


. 

- 


CONTENTS. 


BARD  OF  ELD,  THE , 

BATTLE  OP  THE  BEES,  THL- 

DEATH  OF  GENERAL  WARREN 

HESSIAN  WOMAN  IN  BURGOYNE'S  CAMP,  THE. 

JOHN  HARPER. 

LTDIA  DARRAH  ;    How  SHE  SATED  THE  AMERICAS 

ARMY 

Miss  LANGSTON 

MRS.  POND'S  HASTY-PUDDING  PARTY 

MRS.  VAN  ALSTINE 

OLD  FORT  LEE  HOMESTEAD,  THE 

"  OLD  PUT'S  "  HIDE 

PATRIOTISM  OP  MRS.  MOTT » 

ROBERT  BRICE. , 

RODGER  BELLJ  on,  THE  JERSEY  PRISON-SHIP...... 


M133163. 


PREFACE. 


Tlie  author  of  Tinis  little  volume  was 
prompted  to  his. task  .by  the  belief  that,  in 
rendering  into  -familiar  verse,  some  of  the 
many  instances  of  individual  courage,  hero 
ism,  and  self-sacrifice  with  which  our  revo 
lutionary  history  abounds,  he  would  be  do 
ing  a  not  unwelcome  service  to  the  juvenile 
portion  of  the  community. 

In  the  composition  of  these  ballads  he  has 
adhered  as  closely  as  possible  to  the  histori 
cal  facts,  believing  that  any  attempt  at  em 
bellishment  would  only  detract  from  the  in 
terest  of  the  narrative. 

How  far  he  has  succeeded  in  his  under 
taking  is  for  the  public  to  judge. 


BALLADS   OF   THE  ,REyOIJJTION. 


I  knew  a  bard,  an  ancient  bard, 
With  head  as  white  as  snow, 

Who  sang  to  me  the  days  of  eld — 
The  days  of  long  ago  J 

• 

His  eyes  were  dim,  his  palsied  hand 
No  more  the  pen  could  hold  ; 

And  I  for  him  did  write  his  words 
As  they  to  me  were  told. 

Full  many  a  weary  march  he  had, 
And  stubborn  fight  gone  through, 

Ard  loved  to  dwell  upon  the  past, 
As  most  old  people  do. 

*'  I  sing,"  he  said,  **  the  good  old  days — 

The  days  of  long  ago  ; 
But  'mong  those  good  old  days,  I  wot 

Were  many  days  of  woe : 
r      r 

"With  scenes  of  terror,  scenes  of  joy, 

And  deeds  of  daring  brave — 
And  some  of  these  perhaps  my  words 
May  from  oblivion  save." 

He  sleeps  in  peace,  the  goo£  old  man, 

His  grave  is  near  the  tree, 
Within  whose  shade  his  fav'rite  seat 

In  summer  used  to  be. 


BALLAEXS  OF  THE  INVOLUTION. 


Men  have  mounted  wild  steeds,  and  escaped  with 
their  lives. 

Holding  on  without  bridle  or  check ;  •, 
But  who  ever  took  such  a  dare-devil  ride 

As  the  ride  of  Old  Put  at  Horseneck  1 

With  a  handful  of  men,  on  the  brow  of  the  hill 

(An  hundred  and  fifty  all  told), 
His  post  against  Tryon's  o'erwhelming"  force, 

Putnam  saw  't  would  be  madness  to  hold. 

And  Tryon  exultingly  thought  of  his  scheme, 
For  nothing  on  earth  seemed  more  sure ; 

He  fancied  he'd  caught  the  old  for  in  a  trap, 
And  haaten'd  his  prize  to  secure. 

"  Save  yourselves  in  yon  swamp,"  said  Old  Put  to 

his  men ; 

"  No  horseman  will  follow  you  there ; 
When  they  corns  after  me  I  shall  show  them  a 

trick — 
Let  them  follow  my  lead  if  they  dare." 

44  They  think  they  have  got  me,  the  rascals,"  he 
said, 

As  the  foemen  came  dangerously  near ; 
"  Pretty  small  is  the  chance  in  the  front,  it  is  true, 

And  it  looks  rather  black  in  the  rear." 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


So  steep  was  the  hillside  it  seemed  like  a  wall — 

Stone  steps  rising  shelf  over  shelf; 
To  descend  it  on  foot  was  no  holiday  feat — 

On  horseback  was  madness  itself. 

On  on  came  the  troopers — almost  in  his  face 
The  sword  of  the  foremost  one  flashed  ; 

When  spurring  his  charger  he  waved  them  adieu  ! 
And  over  the  precipice  dashed. 

The  hoofs  of  the  horse  striking  fire  as  he  went, 
'T  was  a  sight  one  may  not  often  behold  ; 

The  horse  and  the  rider,  so  much  seeming  one, 
Might  have  passed  for  a  centaur  of  old. 

"  He  has  dashed  out  his  brains!"  said  the  troopers, 

aghast ; 

And  they  sprang  to,  the  hillside  his  corpse  to  be 
hold; 

But  what  do  they  see  ?     On  the  plain  at  their  feet 
He  is  galloping  off,  the  old  warrior  bold. 

They  fired  their  carbines,  they  shouted,  they  swore  ; 

Then  wheeling  about  round  the  hill  sought  the 

plain ; 
But  all  to  no  purpose — the  start  was  too  great — 

And  firing  and  cursing  and  riding  were  vain. 

With  a  ball  through  his  beaver  old  Putnam  sped  on, 

His  foes  all  left  far  in  the  rear — 
While  Tryon  rode  back  without  catching  the  fox, 

And  with  only  &flea  in  his  ear. 


10      BALLADS  OF  T«£  REVOLUTION. 


A  LEGEND  OP  SOUTH  CAROLINA. 

No  chieftain's  prowess  do  I  laud, 

No  statesman's  glories  sing  ; 
But  to  a  noble-hearted  girl 

My  humble  tribute  bring. 

'T  was  when  old  South  Carolina 
Felt  the  Briton's  scourging  hand, 

And  Tory  bands,  like  hungry  wolves, 
Went  prowling  through  the  land. 

When  the  Bloody  Scout*  were  ravaging 

The  country  far  and  wide, 
And  their  ruthless  hands  laid  desolate 

Full  many  a  fireside. 
J 

. . 
0,  many  a  deed  of  bravery 

By  woman  then  was  done,  >  vo 

That  would  have  for  the  noblest  man       -  j' 

A  wreath  of  glory  won. 

Miss  Langston  is  the  daughter 

Of  an  aged  patriot  sire, 
And  her  own  generous  bosom  glows 

With  all  a  patriot's  fire. 

*Tho  Bloody  Scout  was  an  organized  band  of  Tories,  \r 
committed  fearful  depreciations  at  that  time. 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       11 

Her  brother,  with  a  faithful  band, 

Lies  many  miles  away— 
The  Bloody  Scout  have  vowed  their  doom 

Before  another  day. 

And  she,  tho'  dark  and  drear  the  night. 

To  all  her  friends  unknown, 
To  warn  them  of  the  threatened  harm, 

Has  left  her  homo  alone. 

Through  wood  and  vale  sho  wends  her  way, 
Through  mire  and  tangled  grass, 

Through  many  a  swollen  rivulet, 
And  many  a  deep  morass. 

The  Tiger  is  a  raging  stream, 

Its  waters  deep  and  wide, 
And  there  *s  no  bridge  or  ferryboat 

For  those  who  cross  the  tide. 

f3[ 

But  she  must  reach  the  other  side, 

And  hurry  on  her  way  ; 
For  life  and  de^ath  are  in  her  handa, 

And  she  may  not  delay. 

Neck  deep  in  water — now  she  gains 

The  middle  of  the  tide — 
So  dark  the  night  she  cannot  see 

The  shore  on  either  side. 

A  while  bewildered  now  she  stands, 

Her  courage  almost  fled — 
When  putting  up  a  prayer  to  Heaven 

She  walks  with  firmer  tread. 


12       BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

Tho'  safe  upon  the  other  side, 

The  journey  still  is  long  ; 
But  what  cares  she  for  weary  miles, 

Whose  faith  and  hope  are  strong  ? 

Tbo*  cold  and  wet,  unfalt'ringly 

She  stoutly  presses  on  ; 
And  with  delight  the  patriot  camp 

She  reaches  ere  the  dawn. 

11  Now  haste,  ye  gallant  men,"  sne  said, 

"  And  bid  the  country  rise ; 
The  Bloody  Scout  are  on  their  way 
-  To  take  you  by  surprise  !" 

41  With  toilsome  marching  day  and  night, 
We  're  weary,"  said  the  men  ; 

"  And  we  require  both  food  and  rest 
Ere  setting  out  again." 

Then,  wet  and  weary  as  she  was, 
"  Not  long,"  exclaimed  the  maid, 

"  If  I  your  breakfast  may  prepare, 
Your  march  shall  be  delayed  !" 

Then  quickly,  at  the  maiden's  wish, 
The  golden  meal  was  brought ;     . 

And  quickly,  by  her  fair  white  hands, 
Was  into  hoecake  wrought. 


The  men  from  off  the  cottage  roo 
The  boards  for  fuel  take — 

The  blazing  embers  speedily 
The  ready  hoecake  bake. 


BALLADS   OF  THE   REVOLUTION.  13 

And  every  man—  within  his  pouch 

A  goodly  portion  stow'd  — 
To  rousts  the  country,  far  and  near, 

Is  soon  upon  the  road. 

And  all  the  country,  far  and  near, 

Did  at  their,  bidding  rise  ; 
And  't  was  the  Bloody  Scout  that  day 
Were  taken  by  surprise  ! 

tyrofl*  k»fn£u  *.  a// 

-  >-«4M^_  - 

•:)r>T 


^  __        ^ 

0,  daring  may  the  soldier  be, 

By  Glory's  call  inspired  ; 
But  braver  is  the  woman's  heart 

By  love  and  duty  fired  ! 

44  On  Fish  Creek  Burgoyne  waB  lying/* 

Said  the  hoary  bard  of  eld  ; 
"  His  host,  already  in  their  camp, 

As  prisoners  we  held.'.' 

The  fever  raged  among  his  men, 
And  thirst  and  famine  dread  — 

(0,  may  you  never  know  the  want 
Of  water  and  of  bread  !) 


14      BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

It  must  have  been  a  fearful  state,         \  ,  A 

Without  a  drop  to  drink  I 
Though  lying,  as  they  were,  almost 

Upon  the  river's  brink. 

.  On  one  hand  tho'  the  Hudson  broad 

Displayed  its  glassy  tide, 
And  Fish  Creek's  sparkling  waters  bright 
Foamed  on  the  other  side. 

Yet  seldom  to  the  guarded  shores 

The  British  soldiers  came — 
Too  many,  to  their  cost,  had  learned 

Our  rifle's  deadly  aim ! 

But,  trusting  to  our  gallantry, 

The  women,  now  and  then, 
Would  fearlessly  approach  the  fihore,^ 

So  dreaded  by  the  men. 

P&'fO 
Yet  little  water  could  they  get, 

For,  tho'  unharmed  were  they, 
Their  pails  we  riddled  with  our  shot, 

And  frightened  them  away. 

But  o»e  poor  Hessian  woman  came, 

Who  seemed  oppressed  with  woe- 
She  had  a  wounded  husband, 
And  we  let  her  come  and  go. 

We  let  her  pass  unnoticed  quite, 

For  all  her  story  knew ; 
And  who  could  think  of  harming  one 

So  loving  and  so  true? 


BALLADS  OP  THE  REVOLUTION.       15 

She  came  not  when  the  others  came, 

Nor  withva  pail*  as  they  ; 
She  brought  an  earthen  pitcher, 

And  filled  it  twice  a  day. 

The  bank  was  sloping  where  she  came, 

And  open  to  the  view ; 
And  well  do  I  remember 

The  last  pitcherful  she  drew. 

'T  was  before  Burgoyne's  surrender, 

A  day  or  two  at  most, 
And  hope  had  long  departed  from 

The  leader  and  his  host — 

This  poor  woman,  unmolested, 
Sought  the  stream  as  heretofore; 

And  with  the  sparkling1  water 
Had  her  pitcher  filled  once  more. 

We  had  with  us  one  Ben  Barlow, 

Better  known  among  the  men, 
From  his  swaggering  and  boasting, 

By  the  name  of  fioarting  Ben. 

•"You  sec  that  woman  there,"  said  Ben; 

"  I  '11  bet,  from  where  I  stand, 
I'll  shatter  with  a  rifle  ball 

The  pitcher  in  her  hand  !" 

'«  Shame  !  shame  !"  we  shouted,  *'  peril  not 

The  life  of  one  so  kind  : 
But  wait  until  your  boasted  aim 

A  fitter  mark  shall  find." 


16      BALLADS  OF  TH2  REVOLUTION. 

'*  Well  may  you  grieve,  my  comrades  brave," 

He  answered  snceringly, 
44  If  that  old  woman  chance  to  losa 

A  bit  of  creokery !" 

Then  he  raised  his  gun  and  fired, 

Ere  we  hi*  arm  could  stay ; 
The  woman  fell  without  a  groan, 

And  by  the  water  lay  ! 

Now  crawling  to  the  river's  brink, 

Her  husband  met  our  view — 
His  arms  about  his  murdered  wife 

In  agony  he  threw. 

There  both,  as  if  in  Death's  embrace, 

Upon  the  shore  they  lay, 
Until  their  pitying  comrades  came 

And  carried  them  away. 

No  shot  we  fired  at  them  now, 

But  sorrowing  looked  on  ; 
And  when  we  sought  for  Boasting  Ben, 

We  found  that  he  was  gone  ! 

Contempt,  he  knew,  had  been  his  lot, 

If  he  had  dared  to  stay  ; 
And  he  has  never  since  been  seen, 

Or  heard  of,  from  that  day  ! 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       17 


A  LEGEND  OP  SCHOHARIE. 

Schoharie's  hills  and  valleys 
Are  in  their  brightest  sheen, 

The  suranier  sun  is  setting 
On  hill  and  valley  green. 

But  why  such  anxious  faces 

Amid  a  scene  so  fair  ? 
What  means  on  yonder  hillside 

The  crowd  that  gathers  there  ? 

Is  that  the  brave  John  Harper 

On  yonder  gallant  steed  ? 
Hit  is  !  it  is  !"  the  people  shout, 
*'  God  sends  him  in  our  need.'* 

Up  to  the  crowd  John  Harper 

Rode  leisurely  along  — 
41  What  means,"  he  said,  alighting^ 
"  This  terror-stricken  throng  ?" 

44  Look  !  look  !"  they  answered,  pointing 

To  the  smoke  on  every  hand. 
44  Behold  our  dwellings,  fired 

By  some  prowling  savage  band." 
44  'Tis  that  Tory  thief,  McDaniel,"* 
tgq  Muttered  Harper,  4*  at  his  sport, 
And  my  name  is  not  John  Harper 

If  his  visit  be  not  short." 
*  A  noted  Tory  leader  of  tlie  tJiae. 


18      BALLADS  OP  THE  REVOLUTION. 

Then,  vaulting  in  bb  saddle, 
Not  another  word  he  said* 

Save,  **  I  am  for  Schenectady, 
Whence  I  shall  bring  you  aid." 

"Now  heed  thec  well,  John  Harper,?7 
Each  anxious  matron  cried, 

41  For  savage. foci  are  lurking 

In  thy  path  «n  every  side/*:  nO 

He  staid  not  for  their  warning, 
For  thanks  he  did  not  stay, 

Before  their  words  could  reach  him 
He  was  dashing  on  his  way. 

A  beast  of  better  mettle 

Did  never  man  bestride, 
And  tho*  through  paths  by  foes  beset, 

Thou  'st  many  miles  to  ride. 

With  pistols  at  thy  girdle, 

And  rifle  on  thy  arm. 
Bold  will  he  be,  John  Harper, 

Who  dares  to  do  thee  harm. 

But  night  lowers,  dark  and  gloomy, 
And  man  and  beast  must  rest, 

Yon  roadside  inn  must  hold  to-night 
No  very  welcome  guest. 

Well  did  John  Harper  know  his  host 

A  secret  foo  to  be, 
But  far  too  cunning  to  betray 

His  enmity  was  he. 


BALLADS  OP  THE  REVOLUTION.       19 

With  doors  and  windows  bolted  well, 

With,  arms  prepared  for  need, 
His  open,  or  his  secret  foes, 

Not  much  did  Harper  heed. 

But  hark  to  smothered  voices — 
"  Beware !  my  friends,  beware  ! 

'T  is  certain  death  to  him  who  first 
Puts  foot  upon  the  stair. 

'•  The  man  is  armed  and  daring, 
Tho'  six  stout  men  you  be  ; 
He  has  within  his  keeping 
The  lives,  at  least,  of  three." 

The  men  the  warning  heeded 

To  whom  the  landlord  spoke, 
And  Harper  was  upon  the  road 

Long  ere  the  morning  broke. 

Now  Harper  over  yonder  bridge, 

Held  by  the  foe,  must  ride  ; 
He  sees  the  armed  sentinel 

Upon  the  further  side. 

The  guard  has  spied  the  rider — 

'*  A  friend  of  ours,"  thought  he, 
*'  For  never  foe  would  dare  to  cross 
Our  path  so  fearlessly." 

But  to  himself  the  sentinel 

The  words  had  ecarcely  said, 
When  Harper's  deadly  rifle 

Was  leveled  at  his  head. 


20       BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

**  Raise  not  an  arm,"  said  Harper, 
"  And  not  a  word  from  thee  ; 
Sure  as  thou  disobeyest, 
Thy  life  shall  forfeit  be." 

Then  Harper  in  the  saddle  turned, 

His  rifle  pointed  still 
Full  at  the  sentinel,  rode  on 

Till  sheltered  by  a  hill. 

'*  Now  heed  thee  well,  John  Harper, 

A  foe  is  on  thy  track — 
A  foe  of  savage  daring 
Who  cunning  doth  not  lack," 

But  Harper  is  no  dreamer 
When  danger  lingers  near. 

What  sound  from  yonder  cross-road 
Has  fallen  on  his  ear  ? 

The  bloody  Sithiug  Henry,* 

A  daring  Indian,  tries 
To  cross  our  hero's  pathway, 

And  take  him  by  surprise. 

But  at  the  turning  of  the  road, 
Well  may  the  savage  start 

To  see  a  deadly  rifle 

Full  leveled  at  his  heart  I 

44  Now  turn  thee  back,"  said  Harper, 
"  At  thy  horse's  swiftest  speed, 
Or  I  will  cjuickly  send  thee 

Where  thy  horse  thou  wilt  not  need." 
*  The  name  of  a  savage  noted  for  his  deeds  of  cruelty. 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       21 

No  word  dare  Si  thing  Henry  say, 

Nor  raise  his  arm  in  fight, 
But,  wheeling  round,  rode  off  again, 

And  soon  was  out  of  sight. 

"  0  !  were  it  not  my  telltale  gun 
Might  rouse  the  lurking  foe, 
That  scalping  devil,"  Harper  said, 
"  Should  not  so  cheaply  go." 

Now  joy  reigns  in  Schoharie, 

O'er  hill  and  valley  fair, 
For  not  a  painted  savage 

Or  Tory  lingers  there. 

And  thanks  to  thee,  John  Harper, 

And  to  thy  valiant  band, 
The  praises  of  thy  gallant  deeds 

Are  ringing  through  the  land ! 


idl; 


OR,   THE  JERSEY  PRISON-SHIP. 


"  Be  seated,  friends,"  the  old  man  said, 

"  I  have  a  tale  to  tell ; 
It  is  about  a  friend  of  mine — 

His  name  was  Rodger  Bell. 

"  This  Rodger  Bell  has  now  been  dead 
Some  thirty  years  or  more  ; 

He  was  a  man  somewhat  in  years 
At  closing  of  the  war. 


22       BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


**  He  lived  upon  Long  Island's  shore"; 

A  sailor  good  was  lie, 
For  he,  like  all  his  brothers,  had 

Been  brought  up  to  the  sea. 

"  We  could  not  boast  a  navy  then ; 

But  in  the  bays  about, 
Whaleboats  to  act  as  privateers 

Were  often  fitted  out. 

"  He  had  command  of  one  of  these 
Light  craft  upon  the  sound'; 

And  soon  his  name  a  terror  grew 
To  all  the  Tories  round. 

•*  For  Bell  was  cunning  as  a  fox» 
While  fear  he  never  knew ; 

And  never  did  a  daring  chief 
Command  a  braver  crew. 

"  But  I  shall  give  in  his  own  words, 

As  near  as  it  may  be, 
The  story  of  his  sufferings 

As  it  was  told  to  me." 

'T  would  ill  become  me  now  to  boast, 
Said  Bell,  of  what  was  done 

By  me  and  my  heroic  band, 
Or  all  the  booty  won. 

I  once  could  tell  of  daring  deeds, 

Almost  beyond  belief ; 
I  only  tell  one  story  now, 

And  that  is  one  of  grief : 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION,       23 

A  vessel  with  a  cargo  rich 

Was  coming  in,  I  knew ; 
To  capture  her  I  had  secured 

A  well-selected  crew. 

I  had  a  son,  an  only  sort, 

Then  in  his  nineteenth  year ; 
A  lad  whom  danger  thrilled  with  j^y, 

A  lad  who  knew  not  fear. 

And  yet  he  had  a  gentle  heart, 

That  felt  for  other's  pain; 
His  bitterest  foe,  if  in  distress, 

Would  his  compassion  gain. 

My  son  had  often  begged  that  he 

One  of  our  crew  might  make, 
But  I  forbade  it  for  his  own 

And  for  his  mother's  sake.. 

But  this  time  in  disguise  lie  came, 

The  place  of  one  to  fill, 
Who,  lucklessly,  upon  that  day 

It  chanced  was  taken  ill. 

I  did  not  recognize  my  boy 

'  Till  we  were  underweigh  ; 
*  Twas  then  too  late  t@  make  a  change ; 

Our  trade  brooked  no  delay. 

With  little  loss  on  citlier  side, 

The  prize  we  had  secured, 
And  snugly  in  a  sheltering  cove 

The  vessels  we  had  moored. 


24  BALLADS  OF  THE  KEVOLTJTIQN. 

But  while  our  cheaply-captured  prize 

We  were  rejoicing  o'err 
A  band  of  Tories,  strongly  armeJr 

Appeared  upon  the  shore. 

And  hardly  had  we  shoved  in  haste- 
Our  vessel  from  the  land, 

"When  I  beheld  among  our  foes 
My  son  upon  the  strantf. 

I  sprang  again  npon  the  shore,-    „• 
My  dauntless  boy  to  aid  ; 

But  hero  the  odds  were  ten  to  on*». 
And  we  were  pris'ners  made.. 

Into  the  Jersey  prison-ship'! 

My  boy  and  I  were  thrown* 
Whose  inmates  suffered  miseries* 

Till  then  almost  unknown. 

For  cruelties  inflicted  there 

I  cannot  find  a  name, 
I  can  but  say  our  keepers  knew 

No  pity  or  no  shame.. 

They  gave  us  rancid  pork  to  eat, 
With  black  and  mouldy  bread  ;.- 

The  very  pigs  upon  the  street 
On  better  fare  are  fed. 

Without  a  breath  of  wholesome  aiiv 
Arid  scarce  a  ray  of  light ; 

O,  Jong  and  weary  was  tho  dayT 
And  sleepless  was  the  night. 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       25 

The  loathsomeness,  the  filthiness, 

No  words  of  mine  can  tell ; 
And  even  now  it  sickens  me 

Upon  those  scenes  to  dwell. 

Yet  I  had  suffered  patiently 

Without  a  single  moan, 
And  no  complaint  had  passed  my  lipst 

Had  I  but  been  alone. 

My  noble  boy  bore  up  a  while, 

But  sickness  came  at  last, 
And  he,  tho'  uttering  no  complaint, 

I  saw  was  sinking  fast. 

And  I  could  not  endure  to  see 

My  son  by  inches  die, 
Without  an  effort  being  made 

To  ease  his  sufferings  try. 

We  all  had  of  the  hospital 

A  loathing  and  a  dread ; 
Each  comrade  we  saw  carried  there 

We  deemed  already  dead. 

I  knew  my  son  must  soon  be  torn 

From  me  and  taken  there ; 
The  fearful  prospect  filled  us  both 

With  horror  and  despair. 

I  felt  he  never  <3ould  survive 

Were  we  thus  forced  apart, 
And  well  I  knew  the  death  of  him 

Would  break  his  mother's  heart. 


26       BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

But  when  our  sufferings  had  reached 

The  last  extremity, 
There  came  a  prospect  of  escape 

We  had  not  hoped  to  see. 

It  was  resolved  one  stormy  night,. 

By  prisoners  three  or  four, 
To  strive  their  liberty  to  gain 

By  swimming  to  the  shore* 

And  one  of  these,  who  knew  me  wellx 

At  parting  promised  me, 
Should  he  succeed  he  would  return 

With  aid  to  set  us  free. 

We  had  the  plan  considered  well. 

And  fixed  upon  the  day — 
Or  rather  night,  the  hour  and  all* 

Before  he  went  away. 

But  while  I  prayed  he  might  succeed^ 

For  his  and  for  our  sake, 
I  fear'd  our  generous  friend  would  fail 

His  own  escape  to  make. 

Yet  he  succeeded  and  returned,' 

As  he  had  promised  me, 
With  two  of  my  own  crew,  resolved 

To  die  or  set  me  free. 

And  in  the  darkness  of  the  night, 

And  with  a  favoring  tide, 
They  brought  their  boats,  with  muffled  oars, 

Up  to  the  vessel's  side. 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       27 

Our  berth  close  by  a  porthole  was, 

Tho'  closed  and  bolted  fast ; 
We  found  the  means  of  opening  this. 

And  out  through  it  we  passed. 

Our  foes  were  soon  in  hot  pursuit, 
They  having  learned  our  flight, — 

But  our  escape  was  favored  by 
The  darkness  of  the  night. 

Their  bullets  whistled  past  our  ears, 

And  struck  the  water  near, 
But  from  such  random  shots  we  thought 

There  was  not  much  to  fear. 

We  soon  were  far  beyond  their  reach, 

And  when  the  shore  we  won, 
The  mother  stood  upon  the  beach 

To  greet  her  long  lost  son* 

al 
Into  the  boat  she  sprang,  and  clasped 

Him  to  her  bosom  warm  ; 
But  Oh !  what  horror  thrilled  her  heart — 

She  clasped  his  lifeless  form .' 

One  of  the  bullets  fired  at  us 

Had  struck  him  in  the  side, 
And  he  had  sank  upon  his  seat, 

Without  a  groan,  and  died ! 

I've  lived,  continued  Rodger  Bell, 

To  see  my  country  free, 
And  I  rejoice  for  others'  sake 

That  such  a  thing  should  be. 


BALLADS   OF  THS  REVOLUTION. 


But  what  to  me  is  country  now  ? 

Or  liberty,  or  life  ? 
With  shattered  frame  and  childless  home, 

And  poor  heart-broken  wife  ! 


0,  Bunker  Hill  was  a  gallant  fight 

To  be  remembered  well, 
And  yet  it  grieved  us,  too,  for  there 

The  noble  Warren  fell ! 
And  many  a  valiant  one  beside 

Upon  that  day  did  fall ; 
And  much  we  mourned  for  them,  but  Oh! 

For  Warren  most  of  all. 

Yes,  though  it  waa  a  time  for  joy, 

*T  was  one  for  sadness,  too  ;. 
In  many  a  happy  home  there  would 

Be  wailing  now,  we  knew. 
And  all  the  land  would  weep  the  brave 

We  could  no  more  recall — 
Our  noble-hearted  martyred  sons — 

And  Warren  most  of  all ! 

And  yet  it  fired  the  People's  heart 

With  strength  and  courage  new. 
And  all  resolved  with  one  accord 

To  doubly  dare  and  do  ; 
And  pledged  themselves  that  vengeance  dire 

Should  on  the  Briton  fall, 
For  ruined  homes  and  slaughtered  sons, 

And  Warren  most  of  all ! 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      29 

And  now,  when  war  has  passed  away, 

And  peace  has  come  again, 
And  Freedom's  flag  triumphantly 

Floats  over  hill  and  plain, 
Still,  mid  the  universal  joy, 

A  gloom  at  times  will  fall 
Upon  our  hearts,  for  heroes  slain,, 

And  Warren  most  of  all  I 


A  LEGEND  OF   RENSSELJERVILLE, 

Ah !  little  ye  think  in  these  peace-loving  days, 
As  ye  cozily  sit  by  the  fire's  warm  blaze, 
Of  the  toils  and  the  horror  your  fathers  endured 
In  the  struggle  that  all  your  rich  blessings  secured! 
When  yon  fields,  that  now  drink  but  the  life- 
giving  flood, 

Were  drenched  in  a  torrent  of  innocent  blood ; 
And  the  mother  at  night  clasped  her  baby  in  fear, 
Lest  the  yell  of  the  savage  should  ring  in  her  ear, 
And  her  innocent  babe  from  her  arms  should  be 

wrung, 

Or  its  life-blood  be  spilt  on  the  breast  where  it 
clung  I 

Robin  Brice  had  set  out 

At  the  dawn  of  the  day, 
With  a  grist  for  the  mill 

That 's  nine  long  miles  away. 


30      BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

"  But  eleven  years  old," 
Says  the  mother;  "  too  bad 

To  put  such  a  task 
On  so  tender  a  lad !" 

But  his  brother  and  father 

At  work  are  away, 
And  the  grist  to  the  mill 

Must  be  carried  to-day* 

So  Robin  is  placed 
On  a  good  trusty  nag, 

Filled  with  grain  on  before  himy 
Well  lashed,  is  the  bag. 

And  the  boy  is,  I  trow, 

'Not  a  little  elate, 
At  being  deemed  worthy 

A  charge  of  such  weight. 

Loit'ring  through  forestsy 
And  wading  through  Btream»r 

Like  a  holiday  frolic 
The  long  journey  seems. 

The  grist  has  been  ground, 
>ti  ..  &,  ,.     ,  b 

And  the  day  wanes  apace,, 

And  nine  long  miles  back, 

Through  the  darkness  to  trace, 

Present  not  the  charm 
They  presented  before 

1o  the  boy,  when  in  daylight 
He  traveled  them  o'er. 


BALLADS  OF  THE  HE  VOLUTION. 


31 


His  friend,  Captain  Diltz, 
Lived  three  miles  on  the  way- 

At  his  house,  thought  the  boy, 
For  the  night  I  can  stay  ; 

My  brother,  who  helping 
Our  neighbor,  is  there, 

Full  gladly  his  bed 
And  his  supper  I'll  share. 

Yet  not  so  lighthcarted 

As  starting  at  morn, 
He  mounted  at  eve 

His  good  nag  to  return. 

For  visions  before  him 

In  fancy  were  spread, 
Of  blood-thirsty  Tories 

And  savages  dread. 

Dread  visions,  alas ! 

But  foreshadowings  slight 
Of  horrors,  poor  lad, 

Thou  shall  witness  to-night ! 

But  hifl  terror  soon  flies, 

For  delighted  he  sees 
The  house  of  his  friend 

Peering  out  through  the  trees. 

Now,  a  moment  or  two 
And  he  reaches  the  gate  ; 

But  to  open  it,  why 
Does  the  lad  hesitate  ? 


32       BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

Ah,  well  may  his  heart 

Shrink  with  terror  dismayed 

For  the  strong  swarthy  hand 
On  his  bridle  is  laid 

Of  a  dark  form  that  seems 
To  rise  out  of  the  ground! 

It  makes  not  a  gesture  ; 
It  utters  no  sound. 

But  the  grim  painted  visage, 
And  dark  frowning  brow, 

The  boy  plainly  tell 
In  whose  hands  he  is  now, 

All  silent  with  wonder, 
And  trembling  with  fear, 

Led  on  by  the  savage, 
The  house  he  draws  near; 

And  he  sees  in  the  glare 
Of  the  setting  sun  red, 

Where  eight  of  his  friends 
In  the  pathway  lie  dead  I 

Their  blood-dripping  scalps 
On  a  pole  had  been  strung, 

Which  a  savage  before  him 
Exultingly  swung! 

To  trees  his  poor  brother 
And  Diltz  had  been  tied — 

No  living  friend  had  he 
Now  left  there  beside. 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       33 

The  rest  had  been  murdered, 

The  young  and  the  old, 
And  lay  stretched  on  the  ground 

In  their  blood,  scarcely  cold! 

There  was  blood  on  the  door-step, 

And  blood  on  the  floor, 
And  the  savages'  hands 

Were  still  reeking  with  gore  ! 

Grim  savage  forms 

In  the  farm-house  he  sees, 
By  the  hay- stack,  the  barn, 

In  and  out  'rnong  the  trees. 

Nine  horses  have  they, 

And  have  loaded  them  well 
With  spoils  from  the  scene . 

Of  their  butchery  fell. 

And  the  savages  now, 

In  the  red  glaring  light 
Of  the  houses  they  've  fired, 

Prepare  for  the  flight. 

Unbound  from  the  trees 

Are  the  pris'ners  once  more, 
And,  tied  to  each  other, 

Are  driven  before. 

But  toilsome  and  weary 

The  task  were  to  tell, 
Of  all  on  their  journey 

The  prisoners  befel — 


34       BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

Of  tlic  fruitless  pursuit, 
And  the  hurry  of  flight — 

Of  the  toils  of  the  day, 

And  the  fears  of  the  night — 

Of  their  horror,  as  dread 
Of  starvation  there  came, 

When  the  Indians  no  longer 
Dare  shoot  at  the  game, 

Lest  their  foes  the  report 
Of  the  rifle  might  hear, 

Whom  their  instincts  told  them 
Were  hovering  near ; 

And  they  had  already 
Abandoned,  in  fright, 

The  cumbrous  booty 
Impeding  their  flight — 

Of  the  cruel  treatment 
Through  which  they  passed, 

When  the  Indian  village 
They  reached  at  last — 

How  unhappy  Diltz 
Of  their  cruelty  died, 

And  the  brothers  were  torn 
From  each  other's  side  ; 

Long  sundered  and  suffering, 
And  meeting  no  more 

'Til  after  the  close 
Of  a  long,  bloody  war. 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       35 

But  who  can  describe 

The  poor  mother's  delight, 
When  the  child  so  long  lost 

Once  more  greeted  her  sight  ? 

41  Thy  brother  we  knew 

Was  still  living,"  she  said  ; 

"  But  thee,  my  poor  son, 

We  'd  long  wept  for  as  dead. 

14  But  the  tears  that  in  sorrow 

I  've  shed,  my  dear  boy, 
Are  nought  to  the  tears 
I  am  shedding  for  joy." 

Still  lives  Robert  Brice,  though  old  and  gray, 
Still  may  he  live  for  many  a  day  ; 
And  still  to  his  grandchild's  children  tell 
The  stories  they  love  to  hear  so  well. 


HOW  SHE   SAVED  THE   AMERICAN  AEMY. 



In  wretched  plight  at  Valley  Forge 

The  patriot  army  lay  ; 
In  Philadelphia  General  Howe 

Was  feasting  night  and  day. 

But  though  the  city  seemed  to  smile 

Upon  the  invading  host, 
Full  many  a  brave  and  faithful  friend 

The  patriots  there  ceuld  boast. 


36       BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

Good  Lydia  Darrah  hated  war — 

A  Quakeress  was  she — 
Yet  Lydia  loved  her  country  well, 

And  longed  to  see  it  free. 

Now,  Lydia's  house  was  often  made 

A  place  of  rendezvous 
By  British  officers,  when  they 

Had  secret  work  to  do. 

It  was  a  cosy,  quiet  place, 
Her  upper  room  ;  and  hence 

The  very  place  such  men  would  choose 
For  private  conference. 

For  where  could  conference  be  held 

So  secret  and  secure 
As  in  the  quiet  home  of  one 

So  sober  and  demure  ? 

The  second  of  December 

Is  a  cold  and  frosty  night, 
And  the  cosy  room  is  all  ablaze 

With  fire  and  with  light. 

The  General  would  meet  some  friends, 

And,  *'  Lydia,"  says  he, 
"  You  and  your  household  will  retire 
As  early  as  may  be. 

"  Our  stay,  perhaps,  may  be  prolonged 

'Til  far  on  in  the  night ; 
Myself  will  waken  you  in  time 
To  extinguish  fire  and  light." 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       87 

4<  So  we  must  early  to  our  beds  ! 

This  looks  not  well,"  thought  she  ; 
Her  woman's  sympathies  were  roused, 
And  curiosity. 

44  These  cruel  men  !  these  cruel  men  !" 

So  Lydia  Darrah  thought ; 
"  These  cruel  men !  these  cruel  men 

What  mischief  they  have  wrought !" 

She  goes  to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep, 

These  words  she  seems  to  hear — 
"  What  does  it  mean  ?  what  does  it  mean  ?" 
Still  ringing  in  her  ear. 

She  leaves  her  couch — with  shoeless  feet 

Treads  the  dark  passage  o'er — 
And  up  the  stairs — and  now  she  stands 

Close  at  the  parlor  door ! 

But  wherefore  does  the  woman  start, 

As  with  a  thrill  of  fear  ? 
Have  words  by  her  been  caught  that  tell 

Of  coming  danger  near  ? 

44  These  cruel  men  !  these  cruel  men  !" 

Good  Lydia  Darrah  thought ; 
44  These  cruel  men  !  these  cruel  men  ! 

What  mischief  they  have  wrought !" 

44  Night  after  next,  I  'm  sure  it  was  ; 

God  willing,  who  shall  say 
But  one  as  weak  as  I  for  once 
Their  bloody  hands  may  stay  ?" 


BALLADS   OF   THE    REVOLUTION. 

Scarce  had  she  reached  her  couch  again, 
When  rap  !  rap !  at  the  door  ; 

Her  guests  had  come  to  waken  her, 
As  fixed  upon  before. 

Full  many  a  rap  the  door  they  gave, 

And  many  a  lusty  shake  ; 
The  slumber  must  be  sound,  thought  they, 

Of  one  so  hard  to  wake  ! 

Good  Lydia  is  up  by  times 

And  stirring,  ere  the  day ; 
The  meal  is  out — the  mill,  she  knows, 

Is  five  long  miles  away. 

A  written  pass  is  in  her  hand, 

And  on  the  road  is  she ; 
And  ne'er  before  that  road  by  her 

Was  strode  so  rapidly. 

The  mill  is  reached — the  bag  is  filled — 

But  why  so  brief  a  stay  ? 
And  why  toward  the  rebel  camp 

Now  hurries  she  away  ? 

What  horseman  stops  her  in  her  course  ? 

Ab,  Lydia  !  well  for  thee 
Thy  gallant  guests  of  yesternight 

That  meeting  do  not  see ! 

Those  words  of  thine,  friend  Lydia, 
Must  needs  be  words  of  weight, 

To  send  that  gallant  off  again 
At  such  a  rapid  rate  ! 


BALLADS   OF   THE    REVOLUTION. 

Now,  Lydia  and  her  bag  of  meal 
Were  safe  at  Lome  once  more, 

And  that  day  and  the  next  passed  by 
As  smoothly  as  before. 

But,  ah  !  not  wholly  at  her  ease* 

As  late  the  evening  grew, 
Was  Lydia,  when  the  General  sought 

A  private  interview. 

Was  Lydia  sure  her  household  all 

Had  to  their  beds  retired 
When  last  his  friends  met  at  her  house, 

As  he  had  then  required  ? 

Quite  sure  was  Lydia,  very  sure, 

She  saw  them  all  abed ; 
"  Have  we  a  traitor  in  our  camp  ? 
'T  is  very  strange !"  he  said. 

That  Lydia  was  herself  in  bed 
The  General  thought  he  knew, 

He  had  himself  to  waken  her 
So  very  much  ado. 

**  To  take  the  rebels  by  surprise 

A  plan  had  been  devised ; 
We  found  them  ready  when  we  came — 
We,  only,  were  surprised. 

44  And  so,  like  some  deluded  fools 

On  bootless  errand  sent, 
Rode  back,  the  jest  of  all  the  town, 
As  empty  as  we  went !" 


40       BALLADS  OP  TH£  EEVOLUTION. 

The  cause  of  their  discomfiture, 
Though  Lydia  thought  she  knew, 

Yet  .she,  though  woman  as  she  was, 
Could  keep  a  secret,  too, 

But  quiet  Lydia  said  no  more 
Than  she  was  asked  to  say; 

And  so,  no  wiser  than  he  came, 
The  General  went  away. 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  MOHAWK  VALLEY. 


The  vale  of  the  Mohawk  is  plunged  in  despair, 
For  tho  blood-thirsty  Brandt  and  his  band  have 

been  there ; 

The  blood  of  the  mother  the  hearthstone  has  dyed, 
While  her  innocent  baby  lies  stretched  at  her  side ; 
Defending  his  loved  ones  the  father  has  bled, 
And  the  daughter  is  into  captivity  led. 

Who  are  those  ?  who  are  those  in  yon  swift  gliding 

sleigh, 

Who  over  the  snow-drifts  are  dashing  away  ? 
Now  through  the  dark  forest — now  over  the  stream, 
Where  the  frost  king  has  thrown  a  strong  bridge 

for  the  team. 

Now  up  the  steep  hillside — now  over  the  plain, 
And  now  the  dark  forest  they  enter  again  ; 
*  Tis  Mrs.  Van  Alstine,  a  heroine  tried, 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       41 


And  a  son  of  her  own  is  the  youth  at  her  side  ; 
'Twas  she,  who,  when  murder  and  pillage  were  rife, 
From  the  hand  of  the  savage  saved  many  a  life. 
They  fly  not  from  danger,  they  fly  not  through 

fear, 

Each  moment  brings  danger  more  fearfully  near. 
Through  that  forest  the  savage  his  war-path  has 

made ; 

The  homes  on  its  borders  are  desolate  laid, 
But  little  of  danger  these  reckless  ones  heed  — 
For  right  to  the  savage's  stronghold  they  speed. 
Tho'  'scaping  with  life  from  the  horrible  scene, 
That  so  fearful  a  death  to  so  many  had  been  ; 
Their  homes  have  been  pillaged,  their  fields  been 

laid  waste, 

And  now  for  redress  to  the  spoiler  they  haste. 
Now  twenty  long  miles  through  the  snow  they  have 

passed, 

And  the  savage's  home  is  before  them  at  last. 
But  why  does  this  silence  prevail  ?    Is  there  none 
The  fortress  to  guard,  but  yon  moping  old  crone  ? 
Marauding  and  hunting  the  rest  are  away. 
Now  haste  to  your  task,  for  not  long  may  you 

stay. 

Nor  long  did  they  linger,  and  never  I  trow 
Was  that  good  sleigh  so  speedily  loaded  as  now. 
To  seize,  without  process,  no  scruples  had  they, 
Whate'er  of  their  goods  they  could  carry  away, 
While  two  noble  steeds  of  their  own  they  set  free, 
Well  knowing  at  nightfall  at  home  they  would  be. 
Now  haste  ye  !  now  haste  ye  !  bold  travelers  back, 
For  soon  will  the  savage  foe  be  on  your  track. 


42      BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

But  little  of  warning  these  daring  ones  need. 

To  turn  their  course  homeward  or  urge  them  to 

speed ; 

And  little  inclined  do  I  warrant  are  they — 
To  lag  on  the  journey  or  stop  by  the  way  ; 
No  foes  they  encounter  by  roadside  or  hill, 
No  copse-wood  or  ravine  the  lurking  foes  fill ; 
In  safety  they  pass  through  the  forest  again — 
In  safety  they  glide  over  river  and  plain — 
In  safety  arrive  at  their  own  farmhouse  door, 
Where  the  horses  await  them  they  sent  on  before. 
Now  Mrs.  Van  Alstine,  her  two  noble  steeds, 
To  the  barn  whence  the  Indians  had  stolen  them 

leads ; 

But  hardly  secure  has  the  barn-door  "been  made, 
When  a  hand  on  her  shoulder  in  rudeness  is  laid  ; 
When  turning,  three  savages  fierce  met  her  view, 
Whose  bloodthirsty  natures  but  too  well  she  knew. 
«'  The  horses !  the  horses  !  restore  them  again," 
Said  the  leader,  «*  all  else  thou  hast  taken  retain." 
**  The  horses  are  mine,"  the  brave  woman  replied, 
As  she  fearlessly  thrust  the  fierce  savage  aside  ; 
"  The  horses  are  mine ;  you  shall  have  them  no 

more," 
She  said  as  she  stood  with  her  back  'gainst  the 

door. 

Now  steps  back  the  Indian,  his  rifle  is  raised, 
Why  does  he  not  fire  ?  why  stands  he  amazed  ? 
He  looks  at  his  victim,  no  terror  is  there  ! 
Her  dark  eyes  flash  fire,  her  bosom  is  bare  ! 
"There  are  spirits  protecting  that  brave-hearted 
one,"  >.v 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       43 

The  savage  exclaimed,  as  he  lowered  his  gun ; 
**  If  fifty  like  sho  in  the  valley  had  been, 
No  pillage  or  bloodshed  that  valley  had  seen." 
With  a  shout  of  applause  then  the  savages  fled, 
And  that  valley  no  more  saw  their  visages  dread. 


A  LEGEND  OF  SOUTH  CAROLINA. 


Mrs.  Mott  has  a  mansion  new — 
On  yonder  height  has  a  mansion  rare — 

A  lovelier  spot  you  may  seldom  view, 
But  the  British  have  made  a  stronghold  there. 

And  Marion  has  besieged  the  place — 
His  tent  is  pitched  on  yonder  hill; 

Prepared  for  conflict  or  for  chase, 
His  gallant  men  the  valley  fill. 

Yet  all  the  while  the  British  sneer 

At  Marion's  besieging  host, 
For  Kawdon  with  his  force  is  near, 

To  succor  the  beleaguered  post. 

'*  That  fortress,"  General  Marion  said, 
"  Must  ere  the  dawn  of  day  be  won  ; 

Lord  Rawdon  comes  to  it  with  aid 
Before  the  rising  of  the  sun. 

u  And  with  but  little  waste  of  blood 

We  '11  gain  the  point  desired, 
If  yonder  stately  mansion  can 

(Which  crowns  the  height)  be  fired." 


44  BALLADS   OF   TH^  REVOLUTION. 

The  mansion-house  stood  fair  to  view, 
Within  a  narrow,  guarded  field — 

The  house  once  fired,  Marion  knew, 
The  foe  must  either  fight  or  yield. 

"  But  if  we  fire  yon  house,"  said  Lee, 
Whose  post  was  on  another  height ; 

**  Though  we  may  strike  an  enemy, 
We  wound  as  well  a  friend  to-night." 

But  Mrs.  Mott  was  a  patriot  true — 
No  one  ^adier  was  t^ian  she 

To  do  whatever  a  woman  might  do 
To  set  her  suff 'ring  country  free. 

'*  Spare  not  that  mansion  for  my  sake, 
Nor  think  of  me  or  mine,"  sho  said, 

**  The  sacrifice  I  gladly  make, 
If  thus  my  country's  cause  I  aid." 

A  bow  with  arrows  then  she  brought, 
A  present  rare  from  India  far ; 

She  took  the  arrows  strangely  wrought, 
And  dipped  their  heads  in  blazing  tar. 

44  Now  let  yon  roof  your  target  be/' 
"  Nor  fail  to  hit  the  mark,"  she  says ; 

"  No  sight  will  so  much  gladden  me 
As  my  own  mansion  in  a  blaze." 

The  fiery  shafts  like  lightning  flew, 
7*116  sun-dried  roof  like  tinder  blazed  ; 

A  mighty  bonfire  start  to  view, 
The  country  round  beheld  amazed. 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       45 


In  vain  the  British  soldiers  tried 
To  quench  the  all-devouring  flame  ; 

For  ever  from  the  patriot's  side 
A  well-directed  volley  came. 

A  white  flag  now  the  British  raise 
To  us,  a  signal  of  their  fall, 

And  e'er  that  bonfire  ceased  to  blaze 
Those  haughty  foes  are  prisoners  all. 


,*lf', 
Of  hasty-pudding  Barlow  sang, 

And  sweet  was  the  song  I  know  full  well, 
For  all  the  land  with  its  praises  rang, 

Where  the  lovers  of  hasting-pudding  dwell. 
But  I  sing  of  a  hasty-pudding,  I  ween, 
Such  as  Barlow  himself  had  never  seen. 


*Twas  the  morning  after 
The  Lexington  fight, 

Weary  and  hungry 

With  marching  all  night, 

All  hearty  good  fellows, 
An  hundred  or  more, 

Were  commanded  to  halt 
At  a  farm-house  door. 


46       BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

A  maid-servant  answered 
The  ring  at  the  gate, 

Beseeching  our  captain 
His  wishes  to  state. 

44  We're  weary  and  hungry 
With  marching,"  he  said, 

**  Can  yon  furnish  a  breakfast 
For  us,  pretty  maid." 

44  0,  what,"  said  the  maid, 
•*  Are  we  going  to  do  ? 

There  is  no  one  at  home, 
Mrs.  Pond,  but  you. 

"  None  but  you  and  myself, 
And  the  plowman  Ben ! 

0,  what  shall  we  do  ?  " 
She  repeated  again. 

14  Our  bacon  is  almost 
Exhausted,  you  know, 

The  beets,  the  potatoes, 
And  turnips  are  low. 

"  We  have  not  a  pudding 
Or  pie  in  the  house, 

Nor  cheese  enough 
For  famishing  mouse. 

4 'We  are  out  of  sugar, 
And  butter,  and  bread, 

And  here  an  hundred 
Stout  men  to  be  fed  ! " 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       47 

Then  spoke  the  good  mistress — 

"  We'll  see,  we  shall  she, 
There's  never  a  will 

But  a  way  there  must  be. 

"  Of  Colonel  Pond's  wife 

No  one  ever  shall  say 
She  sent  from  her  door 

Brave  men  hungry  away. 

"  They  shall  have  hasty-pudding 

'Tis  soonest  prepared, 
The  best  of  us  oft 

Have  less  sumptuously  fared. 

**  There's  meal  in  the  gran'ry 

As  yellow  as  gold, 
I've  a  kettle,  at  least, 

Twenty  gallons  will  hold. 

"  I've  ten  good  cows  ready 

To  yield  their  rich  tide, 
Our  neighbors  will  lend 

What  is  needed  beside. 

"  The  stock  of  our  good  friend, 

The  store-keeper  nigh, 
With  plenty  of  spoons 

And  brown  basins  supply. 

*'  Light  the  fire,  my  dear  girl, 

There's  no  time  for  delay, 
Send  Ben  with  the  pails 

To  the  neighbors  away. 


48       BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

"  Our  guests  are  no  chickens, 
Or  children  to  feed  ; 

They'll  lend  us,  I'll  warrant. 
A  hand  in  onr  need." 

And  a  hand  we  did  lend, 
With  a  hearty  good  will, 

Cutting  wood,  drawing  water, 
The  kettle  to  fill : 

Or  stirring  the  pudding, 

Or  tending  the  fire, 
Or  milking  the  cows, 

As  the  case  might  require. 

An  hundred  stout  men 
Seated  all  on  the  green, 

With  a  bowl  of  milk  each, 
Was  a  sight  to  be  seen. 

While  hot  golden  pudding, 
That  swam  in  the  tide, 

With  no  stinted  hand 

To  the  guests  was  supplied. 

That  milk  !  and  that  pudding ! 

Such  praises  it  won  ! 
And  never  to  fare 

Better  justice  was  done. 

With  such  exquisite  grace 
Did  our  hostess  .preside, 

None  could  feel  more  at  home 
By  his  own  fireside. 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       49 

Our  banquet  completed 

We  rose  to  depart, 
With  thanks  and  good  wishes 

That  came  from  the  heart. 

And  such  three  hearty  cheers 
As  we  gave  when  we  went, 

Ne'er  before  in  that  valley 
The  morning  air  rent. 

0,  many  the  years  that  have  since  rolled  away, 
And  toilsome  and  weary  life's  journey  has  been; 

Yet  fondly  does  mein'ry  still  dwell  on  that  day, 
Arid  often  does  fancy  still  picture  the  scene. 


0f 


0,  many  strange  things  were  brought  to  view, 
In  those  days  of  dread,  said  the  bard  of  eld  ; 

Yet  never  but  one  attack,  I  knew, 
By  a  hive  of  furious  bees  repelled. 

Full  often  by  woman's  wit  was  done 
What  the  courage  of  man  had  failed  to  do. 

But  that  of  which  I  would  speak  is  one 
Of  woman's  wit  and  her  courage,  too. 

'T  was  in  Schoharie  the  block-house  stood  ; 

There  were  many  such  throughout  the  land, 
When  the  savage  foes  in  the  pathless  wood 

Found  easy  shelter  on  every  hand. 


50       BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


The  men  had  gone  in  search  of  the  foe  — 
A  foe  they  knew  was  lurking  about ; 

Their  wives  and  children  they  thought  could  know 
No  harm,  meanwhile,  in  a  place  so  stout. 

But  the  foes  they  sought  for  all  the  while, 
Hard  by  in  ambush  had  lain  in  wait ; 

And  they  had  seen,  with  a  fiendish  smile, 
The  fortress's  unprotected  state. 

Thirsting  for  blood  the  savages  came, 
With  Tories  no  less  cruel  than  they, 

Madly  vowing  that  sword  and  flame 

Should  spare  neither  old  nor  young  that  day. 

One  man  alone  at  the  place  had  staid, 

And  he  by  a  random  bullet  fell ; 
That  the  women  could  look  for  no  further  aid 

The  cunning  savages  knew  fall  well. 

But  the  walls  were  thick  and  the  bolts  were  etout, 

And  kept  the  savages  long  at  bay, 
Till  with  spades  and  shovels  they  set  about — 

By  undermining  to  make  their  way. 

'*  The  hand  of  heaven  alone  can  save 
Us  now  from  the  foe,"  the  matrons  cried ; 

When  up  spoke  a  youthful  maiden  brave-^-.;.uii  ii 
"  Heaven  sends  a  weapon  we  have  not  tried." 

Then  from  a  shelf  in  a  corner  nigh, 

She  carefully  lifted  a  hive  of  bees  ; 
*'  Now,"  she  said,  "we'll  let  the  blood-hounds  try 

If  their  cunning  can  master  such  foes  as  these." 


BALLADS  OP  THE  REVOLUTION.       51 

Among  the  besiegers  sire  threw  the  bees ; 

0,  what  a  scampering  then  was  there : 
They  had  not  counted  on  foes  like  these, 

And  they  knew  not  how  many  such  foes  there 
were. 

About  them  the  little  insects  flew, 

Stinging  their  lips,  their  noses,  their  ears, 

Piercing  their  light  garments  through  and  through, 
Filling  the  eyes  with  painful  tears. 

Stung  in  their  faces,  and  stung  in  their  feet, 
The  Indians  raved  and  the  Tories  swore; 

Never  was  seen  a  more  hasty  retreat, 
And  never  was  fortress  so  saved  before. 

In  terror  they  threw  down  musket  and  spade, 
So  sadly  beset  by  the  bees  were  they ; 

And  more  was  done  by  these  insects,  't  was  said, 
Than  twenty  good  guns  could  have  done  that  day. 


52  BALLADS   OF  THtl  REVOLUTIQJT. 


Jf0rt  f a  f 


0,  wild  is  the  spot,  with  its  crags  and  its  forest, 
But  holier  the  charm  that  endears  it  to  me — 
The  cherished  old  homestead,  the  blessed  old  home 
stead 

That  sheltered  my  boyhood  still  stands  at  Fort 
Lee. 

I  love  every  nook,  every  streamlet  and  fountain  ; 

I  greet  an  old  friend  in  each  time-honored  tree, 
And  0 !  what  a  treasure  the  mem'ries  that  cluster 

Around  the  old  homestead  that  stands  at  Fort 
Lee! 

The  Hudson,  all  pure  from  its  home  in  the  moun 
tain, 

As  lingering  awhile  on  its  way  to  the  sea, 
Kissed  the  roses  and  pinks  in  my  grandmother's 

garden, 
While  lovingly  loving  the  shores  of  Fort  Lee. 

There  my  grandsire  dwelt  in  those  dark  days  of 

trial, 
When  brave  hearts  were  striving  their  country 

to  free ; 
There  the  chief  of  them  all  by  that  grandsire  was 

welcomed, 

And  blessed  the  old  homestead  that  stands  at 
Fort  Lee. 


BALLADS   OF  T^E  REVOLUTION.  53 

And  when  the  fierce  Hessians  had  seized  on  hia 

dwelling1, 

While  all  must  a  prey  to  their  ruthless  hands  be ; 
They  swore  the  king's  health  should  be  drunk  by 

the  rebel, 

Or  a  grave  he  should  find  'neath  his  home  at 
Fort  Lee. 

But  when  from  his  cellar  a  bumper  they  fill'd  him, 
*'  Confusion  to  tyrants  wherever  they  be ; 

Success  to  our  chief  and  his  patriot  army" 

Was  the  toast  of  the  fearless  old  man  at  Fort  Lee ! 

Full  many  are  "they,  who,  for  comfort  and  shelter, 
When  forced  from  their  homes  by  oppression 

to  flee, 
With  hearts  overflowing,  have  thanked  the  good 

people — 

Who  honored  the  homestead  that  stands  at  Fort 
Lee. 

Long,  long,  may  the  stranger  still  find  thero  a 

shelter, — 

Far,  far,  be  the  day  that  its  ruin  shall  sec; 
While  we  in  remembrance  shall  treasure  it  ever, 
And  bless  the  old  homestead  that  stood  at  Fort 
Lee ! 


54       BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


He  fell  amid  the  conflict, 

The  leader  of  a  band, 
The  glory  of  whose  prowess 

Resounds  throughout  the  land. 
Go  cull  the  greenest  laurel, 

And  twine  a  wreath  to  deck 
The  brow  of  brave  MONTGOMERY, 

The  hero  of  Quebec ! 

lie  was  one  of  those  spirits 

Who  danger  gladly  greet, 
And  who  achieve  renown 

'Mid  disaster  and  defeat ; 
And  tho'  they  boast  a  victory, 

Yet  fearful  was  the  check 
The  haughty  Briton's  pride  met  from 

MONTGOMERY  at  Quebec. 

Though  many  are  the  brave  ones 

Our  country's  annals  boast, 
And  coming  generations 

May  make  their  names  a  host, 
The  brave  shall  cease  to  win  our  praiso, 

Our  nation  be  a  wreck, 
Ero  we  forget  MONTGOMERY, 

The  hero  of  Quebec. 


BALLADS  OP  THE  REVOLUTION.       55 


iattk  0f  %  fugs,  IT18. 


[This  ballad,  together  with  all  that  follow,  were  written 
and  sung  by  our  fathers  of  tho  Revolution,  and  we  introduce 
them  with  pleasure  in  this  beautiful  collection  from  Mr.  Ha- 
gan'g  pen.J 

Gallants,  attend,  and  hear  a  friend 

Trill  forth  harmonious  ditty  ; 

Strange  things  I'll  tell  which  late  befeS 

In  Philadelphia  city. 

'  Twas  early  day,  as  poets  say^ 

Just  when  the  sun  was  rising, 

A  soldier  stood  on  a  log  of  wood 

And  saw-  a  thing  surprising  : 

As  in  amaze  he  stood  to  gaze, 

The  thing  can't  be  denied,  sir, 

He  'spied  a  score  of  kegs  or  more 

Come  floating  down  the  tide,  sir- 

A  sailor,  too,  in  jerkin  blue., 

This  strange  appearance  viewing, 

First  damn'd  his  eyes,  in  great  surprise, 

Then  said,  '•*  some  mischief's  brewing ; 

These  kegs,  I'm  told,  these  rebels  hold, 

Pack'd  up  like  pickled  herring, 

And  they  've  come  down  to  attack  the  town 

In  this  new  way  of  ferrying." 

The  soldier  flew — the  sailor,  too* 

And  scar'd  almost  to  death,  sir, 

Wore  out  their  shoes  to  spread  the  news, 

And  ran  till  out  of  breath,  sir. 


56  BALLAT>S   OF  THE  REVOLUTION, 

N6w  up  and  down,  throughout  the  town, 
Most  frantic  scenes  were  acted, — 
And  some  ran  here  and  others  there. 
Like  men  almost  distracted. 
Some  fire  erieJ,  which  some  denied. 
But  said  the  earth  had  quaked  ; 
And  girls  and  boys,  with  hideous  noise,, 
Han  through  the  streets  half  naked- 
Sir  William  he,  snug*  as  a  flea, 
Lav  all  this  time  a-snorinff, 

r  .  .  o 

Nor  dreamed  of  harm  as  he  lay  warni 

In  bed  with . 

Now  in  affright  he  starts  upright,. 
Awak'd  by  such  a  clatter, 
He  rubs  his  eyes  and  boldly  cries — 
"For  God's  sake,  what's  the  matter  T'* 
At  his  bedside  he  then  espied 
Sir  Erksiue  at  command,  sir  ; 
Upon  one  foot  he  had  one  boot 
And  t  'other  in  his  hand,  sir. 
44 Arise!  arise!"  Sir  Erksine  cries, 
"The  rebels  —  more's  the  pity  — 
Without  a  boat  are  all  afloat 
And  'rayed  before  the  city  ; 
The  motley  crew,  in  vessels  new, 
With  Satan  for  their  guide,  sir, 
Packed  up  in  bags  or  wooden  kegs 
Come  driving  down  the  tide,  sir. 
Therefore  prepare  for  bloody  war,. 
These  kegs  must  all  bo  routed. 
Or  surely  we  despised  shall  be, 
And  British  courage  doubted." 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION*       57 

The  royal  band  now  ready  stand 

All  'ranged  in  dread  array,  sir, 

With  stomachs  stout  to  see  it  out 

And  make  A  bloody  day,  sir. 

The  cannons  roar  from  shore  to  shore, 

The  small  arms  make  a  rattle; 

Since  wars  began  I'm  sure  no  man 

E  'er  saw  so  strange  a  battle. 

The  rebel  dales  — the  rebel  vales  — 

With  rebel  trees  surrounded, 

The  distant  woods,  the  hills  and  floods, 

With  rebel  echoes  sounded. 

The  fish  below  swam  to  and  fro, 

Attacked  from  every  quarter, — 

Why,  sure,  thought  they,  the  devil's  to  pay 

'  Mongst  folks  above  the  water. 

The  kegs,  't  is  said,  though  strongly  made 

Of  rebel  staves  and  hoops,  sir, 

Could  not  oppose  those  powerful  foes — 

The  conquering  British  troops,  sir. 

From  morn  till  night  these  men  of  might 

Displayed  amazing  courage, 

And  wlien  the  sun  was  fairly  down 

Retired  to  sup  their  porridge. 

An  hundred  men  with  each  a  pen 

Or  more,  lipon  my  word,  sir, 

It  is  most  true  would  be  too  few 

Their  valor  to  record,  sir. 

Such  feats  did  they  perform  that  day 

Against  those  wicked  kegs,  sirs, 

That  years  to  come,  if  they  get  home, 

They'll  make  their  boasts  and  brags,  pins. 


58       BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


Cjmstor,  1ZZS. 


x  A  HYMN. 

^ 

Let  tyrants  shake  their  iron  rod 

And  slavery  clank  her  galling  chains, 

"We  fear  them  not,  we  trust  in  God — 

New  England's  God  forever  reigns. 

Howe,  and  Burgoyne,  and  Clinton,  too, 

With  Prescott  and  Cornwallis  joined, 

Together  plot  our  overthrow, 

In  one  infernal  league  combined. 

When  God  inspired  us  for  the  fight, 

Their  ranks-  were  broke,  their  lines  were  forced,- 

Their  ships  were  shattered  in  our  sight, 

Or  swiftly  driven  from  our  coast. 

The  foe  comes  on  with  haughty  stride, 

Our  troops  advance  with  martial  noise ; 

Their  veterans  flee  before  our  youth* 

And  generals  yield  to  beardless  boys. 

What  grateful  offering  shall  we  bring  I 

What  shall  we  render  to  the  Lord  1 

Loud  hallelujahs  let  us  sing, 

And  praise  his  name  on  every  chords 


BALLADS   OF   THE   REVOLUTION, 


's  <%istle  in  % 
m 


By  my  faith,  but  I  think  ye're  all  makers  of  hulls, 

With  your  brains  in  your  breeches,  your in 

your  skulls; 

Get  home  with  your  muskets,  and  put  up  your 
swords, 

And  look  in  your  books  for  the  meaning  of  words. 

You  see  now,  my  honies,  how  much  you're  mis 
taken, 

For  Concord  by  dis-oord  can  never  be  beaten. 

How  brave  ye  went  out  with  your  muskets  all 

bright, 

And  thought  to  befrighten  the  folks  with  the  sight ; 
But,  when  you  got  there,  how  they  powdered  your 

pums, 
And  all  the  way  home  how  they  pepper'd  your 

;  f 

And  is  it  not,  honies,  a  comical  crack, 

To  be  proud  in  the  face,  and  be  shot  in  the  back. 

How  come  ye  to  think,  now,  they  did  not  know 

how 

To  be  after  their  firelocks  as  smartly  as  you  ? 
Why,  you  see  now,  my  honies,  'tis  nothing  at  all 
But  to  pull  at  the  trigger,  and  pop  goes  the  ball. 


(5O  BALLADS   OF   TH^  REVOLUTION.     - 

And  what  have  you  got  now,  with  all  your  design 
ing, 

But  a  town  without  victuals  to  sit  down  and  dine 
in, 

And  to  look  on  the  ground,  like  a  parcel  of  noodles, 

And  sing  how  the  Yankees  have  beaten  the  Doo 
dles, 

I'm  sure,  if  you're  wise,  you'll  make  peace  for  a 
dinner, 

For  fighting  rod  fasting  will  soon  make  you  thinner. 


• 


BALLADS  OF   THE  REVOLUTION. 


JL-SEW  «ON&  WRITTEN  AFTER  THE  DEFEAT  O» 

BURGOYNE, 

• 

I 

West  of  the  old  Atlantic  firm  Liberty  stands  ; 
Hov'ring  Fame  gust  alighted  supported  by  bands 
I    Of  native  free-born,  who  loudly  echoing  sing 
"We'll  support  our  just  rights  'gainst  tyrannic 
'  Mugs'!" 

"Caral-laddy,  caral-laddy,  &o. 

<3reorge  the  Third  she  disowns,  and  Ms  proud  lordly 

cheats, 

His  murdering  legions  and  half-famished  fleets ; 
To  the  Jerseys  sneaked  off  with  Cear  quite  dis- 

may'd, 
Although  they  much  Coasted,  that  fighting's  their 

trade. 

Our  just  rights  to  assert  hath  the  Congress  oft 

tried, 

Whose  wisdom  and  strength  our  opponents  deride ; 
And  still  madly  in  rage  their  weak  thunder  is  hurl'd 
To  bring  us  on  our  knees  and  to  bully  the  world. 


62      BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

Too  haughty  to  yield,  yet  too  weak  to  withstand, 
They  skulk  to  their  ships  and  leave  us  the  firm 

land  ; 
In  dread  lest  they  share  what  Jack  Burgoyne  did 

feelr 
And  the  game  be  quite  lost  as  poor  Jack  had  lost 

deaL 

Jack  thinking  of  "  cribbage,"  "  all  fours/'  or  of 

"put," 

With  a  dexterous  hand  he  did  shuffle  and  cut, — 
And  when  likely  to  lose,  like  a  sharper  they  say, 
Did  attempt  to  renege  —  I  mean  run  away. 

But  watched  so  closely  he  could  not  play  booty. 
Yet  to  cheat  he  fain  would  for  George. —  'twas  his 

duty; 

A  great  bet  depending  on  that  single  game, 
J>ominion  and  honor  —  destruction  and  shame. 

Examined  with  care  his  most  critical  hand  ; 
At  a  loss  if  better  to  beg  or  to  stand  ; 
His  tricks  reckon'd  up,  for  vall  sharpers  can  jangle, 
Then  kick'd  up  a  dust  for  his  favorite  wrangle, 

*  T  was  diamond  cut  diamond,  spades  were  of  no 

use 

But  to  dig  up  the  wages  for  surrender  and  truce, — 
For  he  dreaded  the  hand  that  dealt  out  such 

thumps, 
As  the  hearts  were  run  out  and  clubs  were  then 

trumps. 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       63 


Thus  l)e  met  with  the  rubbers  as  the  game  it  turn'd 

out, — 

Poor  Jack,  although  beat,  made  a  damnable  rout, 
Complained  he  was  cheated  and  pompously  talks, 
Quit  the  game  with  a  curse  while  he  rubb'd  out  tho 

chalks. 

But,  see!  a  cloud  bursts  and  a  seraph  appears  — 
Loud  trumpeting  peace  while  in  blood  to  their  ears, 
With  bulls  and  with  pardons  for  us  on  submission, 
To  BULL  us  and  GULL  us  by  THEIR  SHAM  COMMIS 
SION. 

Tho  haughty  great  George  then  to  peace  is  now 
prone, 

A  bully  when  matched  can  soon  alter  his  tone ; 

'  T  is  the  act  of  a  Briton  to  bluster  and  threaten, 

HANGS  HIS  TAIL  LIKE  A  SPANIEL  WHEN  HAND 
SOMELY  BEATEN. 

Charge  your  glasses  lip-high — to  brave  Washington 

sing, 

To  the  Union  so  glorious  the  whole  world  shall  ring ; 
May  their  councils  in  wisdom  and  valor  unite, 
And  the  men  ne'er  be  wrong  who  so  far  are  right. 

The  great  Doctor  Franklin  the  next  glass  must 

claim, 

Whose  electrical  rod  strikes  terror  and  shame  ; 
Like  Moses  who  caused  Pharaoli's  heart-strings  to 

grumble, 
Shock'd  George  on  his  throne,  his  magicians  made 

humble. 


64      BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

To  Gates  and  to  Arnold  with  bumpers  we'll  join, 
And  to  all  our  brave  troops  who  took  gambling 

Burgoyne. 
May  their  luck  still  increase  as  they  'vc  turn'd 

upon  Jack, 
To  cut  and  turn  up  all  the  knaves  in  the  pack.  * 


*  The  Earl  of  Dartmouth  asked  an  American  in.  London  of 
how  many  members  the  Congress  consisted.  To  which  the 
reply  was  "fifty-two."  "Why,  that  is  the  number  of  cards  in 
a  pack ;  how  many  knaves  are  there  ?"  said  his  lordship.  ' '  Not 
one, '  replied  the  American.  "Please  to  recollect  that  KHAVSS 

ARB  COURT  CARDS." 


BALLADS  OP  THE  REVOLUTION.       65 


(Ml 


High  on  the  banks  of  Delaware 
Fair  Liberty  she  stood  ;   - 

And  waving  with  her  lovely  hand, 
Cried  —  "Still,  thou  roaring  flood. 

"  Be  still,  ye  winds  —  be  still,  ye  seas, 

Let  only  zephyrs  play  !  " 
Just  as  she  spoke  they  all  obeyed, 
thus  the  maid  did  say  : 


"  Welcome,  my  friends,  from  every  land 

Where  freedom  doth  not  reign  ; 
Oh  !  hither  fly  from  every  clime 
Sweet  liberty  to  gain  ! 

'•*  Mark  Londonderry's  brave  defence 

'Gainst  tyranny  that  swayed  ; 

Americans,  the  example's  great  ! 

Like  them  be  not  dismayed. 

"  Expect  not  that  on  downy  beds 
This  boon  yon  can  secure,  — 
At  perils  srnile,  rouse  up  your  souls  ! 
War's  dangers  to  endure. 

"  'Gainst  your  affronted  land  behold 

Oppression  rear  its  head^ 
In  hydra-form  and  battle's  din 
Each  trembling  slave  to  dread. 


60       BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


"  Bat  ye,  its  sons,  will  ne'er  give  up 

Your  parent  fires  till  death  ; 
Behold  you  beauteous  virgins  seek 
Laurels  your  brows  to  wreath. 

"  Bear  on  your  minds  the  noble  deeds 

Your  ancestors  achieved, — 
How  many  worthy  Britons  bled 
To  have  their  children  freed  ! 

•'  See  on  the  meteors  of  the  night 

Their  spirits  wanly  fly  ! 
Roused  from  the  grave  by  your  distress  ; 
Hark !  thus  I  heard  them  cry  : 

"  Was  it  for  this,  ye  mothers  dear  ! 
Ye  nursed  your  tender  babes  ? 
Was  it  for  this,  our  yet-loved  sons  ! 
We  sheathed  our  trusty  blades  ? 

"  0  !  genius  of  our  ancient  times  ! 
Be  thou  our  children's  guide  ; 
To  arms  !  to  arms !    They  call  to  arms. 
And  stalk  in  martial  pride. 

44 1  will  then  guide,  ye  reverend  sires  ! 

Go  to  your  tombs  in  peace ; 

The  rage  of  proud  usurping  men 

Your  sons  shall  yet  repress. 

'*  Hold  up  your  heads,  ye  weeping  fair  ! 

Their  swords  are  on  their  thighs  ; 
Smile  yet  again,  ye  lovely  babes  ! 
Their  banner  's  in  the  skies. 


BALLADS  OF  THK  REVOLUTION.       67 

I  come,  I  come,  to  join  your  train, 

Heaven's  ministers  I  see  ; 
Farewell,  my  friends,  be  not  afraid, 

Be  virtuous  and  be  free  ! " 

Heaven's  portals  opened  as  she  soared, 

And  angels  thence  did  come  ; 
With  heavenly  songs  and  golden  harps 

The  Goddess  welcomed  home. 


68       BALLADS  OF  THE  DEVOLUTION, 


As  near  beauteous  Boston  tying 
On  the  gently  swelling  flood, 
Without  jack  or  pendant  flying, 

Three  ill-fated  tea-ships  rode. 

Just  as  glorious  Sol  was  setting. 

On  the  wharf  a  numerous  crew, 
Sons  of  freedom,  fear  forgetting, 

Suddenly  appeared  in  view. 

Armed  with  hammers,  axe,  and  chisels, 
Weapons  ne^v  for  warlike  deed, 

toward  the  herbage-freighted  vessels 
They  approached  with  dreadful  speed. 

O'er  their  heads,  aloft  in  mid-sky, 
Three  bright  angel  forms  were  seen  : 

This  was  Hampden,  that  was  Sidney, 
With  fair  Liberty  between. 

11  Soon,"  they  cried,  "your  foes  you'll  banish, 

Soon  the  triumph  shall  be  won ; 
Scarce  shall  setting  Phoebus  vanish, 
Ere  the  deathless  deed  be  done." 

Quick  as  thought  the  ships  were  boarded, 
Hatches  burst  and  chests  displayed, 

Axes,  hammers,  help  afforded  ; 
What  a  glorious  crash  they  made. 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       69 

Squash  into  the  deep  descended, 

Cursed  weed  of  China's  coast ; 
Thus  at  once  our  fears  were  ended* 

British  rights  shall  ne  'er  be  lost. 

Captains !  once  more  hoist  your  streamers, 
Spread  your  sails  and  plough  the  wave ; 

Tell  your  masters  they  were  dreamers 
When  they  thought  to  cheat  the  brave. 


70       BALLADS  OP  THE  REVOLUTION. 


0it  %  "  §mth8  0f 
%  fte." 


'Twas  winter,  and  blue  Tory  noses  were  freezing 
As  they  marched  o'  er  the  land  where  they  ought 

not  to  be  ; 
The    valiants  'complain'd    at    the    fifer's  curs'd 

wheezing, 
And  wish'd  they'd  remained  on  the  banks  of  the 

Dee. 
Lead  on,  thou  paid  captain  !  tramp  on,  thou  proud 

minions  ! 
Thy  ranks,  basest  men,  shall  be  strung  like  ripe 

onions, 
For    hero    thou  hast  found  heads  with  warlike 

opinions 
On  the  shoulders  of  men  wlio  ne  'er  saw  the  Dee. 

Prepare  for  war's  conflict  ;  or  make  preparation 
For  peace  with  the  rebels,  for  they  're  brave  and 

glee; 
Keep  mindful  of  dying  and  leave  the  foul  nation 

That  sends  out  its  armies  to  brag  and  to  flee. 
Make  haste,  now,  and  leave  us,  thou  miscreant 

Tories  ! 

To  Scotland  repair—there  court  the  sad  houris, 
And  listen  once  more  to  their  plaints  and  their 

stories 
Concerning  thn  "  glory  and  pride  of  the  Dee-" 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       71 

Be  quiet  and  sober,  secure  arid  contented, — 

Upon  your  land  be  valiant  and  free  ; 
Bless  God  that  the  war  is  so  nicely  prevented* 

And  till  the  green  fields  on  the  banks  of  the 

DCQ. 
The  Dee  then  will  flow,  all  its  beauty  displaying, 

The  lads  on  its  banks  will  again  be  seen  playing, 
And  England  thus  honestly  taxes  defraying, 

With  natural  drafts  from  the  banks  of  the  Dee. 


72      BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


t0  %  Crattor. 


Arnold  !  the  name  as  heretofore, 
Shall  now  be  Benedict  no  more ; 
Since,  instigated  by  the  devil, 
Thy  ways  are  turned  from  good  to  evil, 

'T  is  fit  we  brand  thee  witli  a  name, 
To  suit  thy  infamy  and  shame  ; 
And  since  of  treason  thou  'rt  convicted, 
Thy  name  shall  now  be  maledicted  ; 

Unless,  by  way  of  contradiction, 
We  style  thee  Britain^  Benediction, 
Such  blessings  she,  with  liberal  hand, 
Confers  on  this  devoted  land. 

For  instance,  only  let  us  mention 
Some  proofs  of  her  benign  intention : 
The  slaves  she  sends  us  o'er  the  deep, 
The  bribes  to  cut  our  throats  in  sleep, 
To  take  our  lives  and  scalps  away 
The  savage  Indians  keeps  in  pay, 
Arid  Tories  worse,  by  half,  than  they. 

Then,  in  this  class  of  British  heroes — 
The  Tories,  savage  Indians,  negroes- 
Recorded,  Arnold's  name  shall  stand 
While  Freedom's  blessings  crown  our  land, 
And,  odious  for  the  blackest  crimes, 
Arnold  shall  stink  to  latest  times. 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       73 


SUNG  BEFORE  GENERAL  SULLIVAN  AFTEE  THE 
BATTLE  OF  TRENTON. 

Hark  !  the  loud  drums ;  hark  !  the  shrill  trumpet- 
call  to  arms, 

Come,  Americans,  come,  prepare  for  war's  alarms. 
Whilst  in  array  we  stand, 
What  soldier  dare  to  land  ? 
Sure  in  the  attempt  to  meet  his  doom — 
A  leaden  death  or  a  watery  tomb. 
We,  Americans,  so  brave   o'er  the  land  or  the 

waves, 

All  invaders  defy.    We'll  repulse  them  or  die  ; 
We  scorn  to  live  as  slaves. 

Recall  the  days  wherein  our  fathers  bravely  fought, 
And,  crown'd  with  praise,  they  patriot  glory  sought, 
Bid  their  high  deeds  inspire, 
Bid  Magna  Charta  fire. 
Greatly  they  labored  for  our  good, 
•    All  sorts  of  tyranny  withstood. 
All  these  we  despise,  on  our  courage  rely, 
For  what  American  so  base  would  his  country  dis 
grace 
And  from  his  colors  fly, 


74  .     BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

No  party  spite  no  more  our  measures  will  oppose, 
For  all  unite  against  our  insulting  fois. 
All  then  in  chorus  sing, 
And  let  your  voices  ring. 
Fill  unto  Sullivan  the  flowing  towl, 
Hand  it  to  each  gallant  soul, 
Raise  patriot  flame,  his  glory  proclaim 
Who  his  sword  boldly  draws  in  his  country's  cause 
And  wins  an  endless  name. 


* 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      .75 


FREYNEAU. 

Oh  !  blast  this  Congress,  blast  each  upstart  State 
On  whos'P  commands  ten  thousand  warriors  wait ! 
From  various  climes  that  dire  assembly  came, 
True  to  their  trust,  yet  hostile  to  my  fame. 
'Tis  these,  ah  !  these  have  ruined  Mf  my  sway, 
Disgrac'd  my  arms,  and  led  my  realm  astray. 

France  aids  them  now — I  play  a  desperate  game — 
And  sunburnt  Spain  they  say  will  do  the  same. 
My  armies  vanquished,  and  my  heroes  fled, 
My  people  murmuring,  and  my  commerce  dead, 
My  shattered  navy,  pelted,  bruis'd,  and  clubb'd, 
By  Dutchmen  bullied,  and  by  Frenchmen  drubb'd. 

My  name  abhorr'd,  my  nation  in  disgrace, 
What  should  I  do  in  such  a  mournful  case  ? 
My  hopes  and  joys  are  vanished  with  my  coin, 
My  ruined  army,  and  my  lost  Burgoyne  ! 
What  shall  I  do  ?     Confess  my  labors  vain, 
Or  whet  my  tusks  and  to  the  charge  again  ? 

But  where's  my  force,  my  choicest  troops  are  fled, 
Some  thousands  crippled,  and  a  myriad  dead. 


7<3  BALLADS   OF   THE   REVOLUTION. 

If  I  were  owned  the  stoutest  of  mankind, 
And  Hell  with  all  her  rage  ins'pircd  my  mind, 
Could  I  at  once  with  France  and  Spain  contend, 
And  fight  the  rebels  on  the  workVs  green  end  ? 

Yet  rogues  and  savage  tribes  I  must  emploj'-, 
And  what  I  cannot  conquer  will  destroy. 
Is  there  a  robber  close  in  Newgate  hcmm'd  ? 
Is  there  a  cutthroat  fettered  and  condemn'd  ? 
Haste,  loyal  slaves,  to  George's  standard  come, 
Attend  his  lectures  when  you  hear  the  drum. 

Your  chains  I  break,  for  better  days  prepare, 
Come  out,  my  friends,  from  prison  and  from  care. 
Far  to  the  west  I  plan  your  desperate  way, 
There  't  is  no  sin  to  ravage,  burn,  and  slay; 
Then,  without  fear,  your  bloody  trade  pursue 
And  show  mankind  what  British  rage  can  do. 

Ye  daring  hosts  that  crowd  Columbia's  shore, 
Tremble,  ye  traitors  !  and  exult  no  more. 
Flames  I  will  hurl  with  an  unceasing  hand 
Till  fires  eternal  blaze  throughout  your  land, 
And  every  dome  and  every  town  expires, 

And  traitors  perish  in  the  unfeeling  fires. 

1       . 

But  hold  !  though  this  be  all  my  soul's  desire, 
Will  my  own  towns  be  proof  to  rebel  fire  ? 
If,  in  i-Qvengc,  my  raging  foes  should  come 
And  burn  my  London,  it  would  strike  me  dumb 
To  sec  my  children  and  my  queen  in  tears 
And  these  tall  pUes  come  tumbling  round  my  ears. 


BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       77 

Curs'd  be  the  day  when  I  first  saw  the  sun  — 
Curs'd  be  the  hour  when  I  this  war  begun!- 
The  friends  of  darkness  then  inspired  my  mind, 
And  powers  unfriendly  to  the  human  kind  ; 
My  future  years  I  consecrate  to  woe  ; 
For  this  great  loss  my  soul  in  tears  shall  flow. 

To  wasting  grief  and  sullen  rage  a  prey, 
To  Scotland's  utmost  verge  I  take  my  way ; 
With  Nature's  storms  eternal  concert  keep, 
And  while  her  billows  rage  as  fiercely  weep. 
Oh  !  let  the  earth  my  rugged  fate  bemoan, 
And  give,  at  least,  one  sympathising  groan, 


78       BALLADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


What  though  America  doth  pour 
Her  millions  to  Britannia's  store, 
Quoth  Glenville,  "  that  wo  n't  do — for  yet 
Taxation  is  the  etiquette." 

The  tea  destroyed,  the  offer  made' 
That  all  the  loss  should  be  repaid  ; 
x  North  asks  not  justice  nor  the  debt, 
But  he  must  have  the  etiquette. 

He  'd  stop  their  post — annul  their  laws, 
"  Hear  us,"  said  Franklin,  "  for  our  cause  !" 
To  hear  the  accus'd  the  Senate  met, 
Decreed  't  was  not  the  etiquette. 

At  Bunker  Hill  the  cause  was  tried, 
The  earth  with  British  blood  was  dyed ; 
Our  army,  though  't  was  soundly  beat, 
We  hear  bore  off  the  etiquette. 

The  bond  dissolved — the  people  rose— 
Their  rulers  from  themselves  they  chose ; 
Their  Congress  then  at  naught  was  set, 
Its  name  was  not  the  etiquette. 

Though  't  were  to  stop  the  tide  of  blood 
Their  titles  must  not  be  allowed, 
(Not  to  the  chiefs  of  armies  met,) 
One  Arnold  was  the  etiquette. 


BAT-LADS   OP  THE   REVOLUTION.  79 

The  Yankees  at  Long  Island  found 
That  they  were  nearly  run  aground  ; 
Howe  let  them  'scape  when  so  beset. 
He  will  explain  the  etiquette. 

His  aid-de-camps  to  Britain  boast 
Of  battles  Yankees  never  lost ; 
But  they  are  won  in  the  Gazette  — 
That  saves  the  nation's  etiquette. 

Clinton  his  injured  honor  saw, 
Swore  he'd  be  tried  by  martial  law, 
And  kick  Germaine  where  'er  they  met ; 
A  ribbon  saved  that  etiquette. 

Though  records  speak  Germaine's  disgrace, 
To  quote  them  to  him  to  his  face, 
(The  Commons  now  are  —  si  honnete), 
They  voted  not  the  etiquette. 

Of  Saratoga's  dreadful  plain — 
An  army  ruined ;  why  complain  ?  ' 
To  pile  their  arms  as  they  were  let, 
Sure  they  came  off  with  etiquette ! 

Cries  Burgoyne  —  "  They  may  be  reliev'd ; 
That  army  still  may  be  retrieved, 
To  see  the  king  if  I  be  let." 
"  No,  sir ;  't  is  not  the  etiquette." 

God  save  the  King !  and  should  ho  choose 
His  people's  confidence  to  lose, 
What  matters  it  ?  they  '11  not  forget 
To  serve  him  still — through  etiquette. 


80  BAIXADS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION, 


to     riisfo. 


Blush,  Britain  !  blusli  at  thy  inglorious  war, 
This  civil  contest,  this  ignoble  jar  ; 
Think  how  unjustly  you  've  begun  tkc  fray, 
With  cruel  measures  rous'd  America. 

To  arms  !  each  swain  must  leave  the  peaceful  field, 
And  'gainst  his  brethren  lift  the  sword  and  shield  ; 
Their  spacious  commerce  now  in  ruin  lies, 
And  through  their  land  the  hostile  banner  flies. 

Britain,  what  laurel  canst  thou  hope  to  gain  1 
Can  any  action  give  a  hero  fame  ? 
In  brother's  blood  our  soldier's  hands  imbued, 
And  barb'rous  hostilcs  by  our  chiefs  pursued., 

Afflicting  Britain,  thus  to  spoil  thy  name* 
Defeat  's  a  scandal  —  conquest  but  a  shame  ; 
Our  senators  all  lost  in  dire  excess, 
Lovers  of  pleasure,  luxury,  and  dress. 

Almighty  Ruler  !  stretch  thy  potent  hand, 
And  o'er  Britannia  wave  the  olive  wand  ; 
Preserve  our  nation  from  the  impending  fate, 
Drive  clouds  of  Scotchmen  from  the  British  State. 
Fair  Peace  descend  with  all  thy  prosp'rous  train, 
And  spread  thy  blessings  o'er  our  spacious  plain. 


Grei'man  Self- Instructor. 
UNBO'8  GERMAN  SERIES,   NO,  t. 

BEING  A  MODE  OP 

.EARNING  GERMAN 

ADAPTED   ESPECIALLY  TO 

tTT-BEGlNNERS  and  SELF-INSTRUCTORS 
ON   A 

NEW  AND  KASY  METHOD. 

T    JS  O  W  A  R  O     C  H  A  M  I  E  R  . 

PROFESSOR    OF    (jrKRMAN,     NEW     YOKK    ClTY. 

All  desirous  of  getting  H  knowledge  of  the -German  Language  will  hai 
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ich  Instructor,  which  has  proved  so  eminently  successful,  it  is  in  tender 
eipally  for  new  beginners  and  self-instructors,  but  it  is  specially  adapter 
Text  Book  lor  Schools  ami  Colleges.  The  Publishers  have  always  per 
ed  the  want  of  cheap  vet  thorough  Text  Hooks  tor  these  languages 
are  now  happy  to  be  able  to  supply  their  want.  The  book  contain.1 
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THE 

ffiiCt«t  WSTOBY,  CAUSE,  PREVENTION 


*  " 


OF  CHOLERA, 


Wit.li  an  account,  of  its  Progress    and    Ravages    through    the 

rid,  ami  the  Latest  and    Most.    Successful  Treatment,  Remedies 

Disinfectants  Endorsed  and  Approved  hy  the  Medical  Faculty. 

"Cleanliness  is  next  to  godliness.1'  —  ST.  PA  ITU 
PRICE,      TEN     C  i:  N  T  H     EACH. 

GEORGE  MUNfiO  &  Co,,  Publishers, 

137   WILLIAM  STRKET.  N.   Y 


MUNRO'ST-EN CUNT  PUBLICATIONS 


No.  1.  The  Hnnt*r». 
2.  The  Trapper's  Retreat. 
The  Patriot  Highwayman. 
The  Fugitives  of  the  Mountain* 
.  The  Track  of  Fire. 

The  Man-Eat  era. 
.  Charlotte  Temple. 
8.  The  Death  Face. 
•.  The  Indian-Slayer. 

10.  The  Tu  rtUvCatcher. 

11.  The  Hunter's  Triumph. 

12.  The  (>:ean  Rovers. 

13.  The  Tory  Outwitted. 

14.  Zeke  Sternum. 

15.  The  Scourge  of  the  Seas. 

16.  The  Captive  Maiden.       „ 

18!  The  Wild  Scout  of  the  Mountain*. 

19.  The  Forest  Lods«, 

20.  The  Rollicking  Rangers. 

21.  Rattlesnake  Dick. 

22.  Ricketty  Tom,  tiie  Rover. 

23.  The  Imps  of  the  Prairie. 

24.  The  Robber's  Terror.  . 
23.  Joe,  the  "Sarpnir." 

26.  Lightfoot,  the  Scout. 

27.  The  Giant  Spy  of  Bunker  Hill. 

28.  Scar-Cheek,  Die  Wild  Half-Breed. 

29.  Squint-Eyed  Bob. 

30.  Snaky  Sncwlfitass. 

31.  Rolling  Thunder,    or    the    Rival    War- 

Chief*. 

32.  He<;  y-Hat«het.  the  Bold  Scout, 

33.  Sly  Sam,  the  Quaker  Spy 

34.  The  Three  Daring  Trappers 

STORIES— The  Ghost  of  V,' 

SOJVG  3JOOKS. 


35.  The  Fatal  Mark.sn.nn 
o-Eyda  Zt-ko 

37.  Bitf-  Rifle  Nick. 

38.  The  Hold  Scalp-Hunter 
Sy.   T);.1  Tot  y   v-  y. 


41.   '.\"t  il:l-  and  Befl.nty. 

r'ihe  Forest 

43    Tire  '.unit  ot'tho  Wowls 
44-  The  <  razy  Trapper. 
45   The  Lion-Heared  Humer 
46.  Old  J.in  ..f  !  he  Wood*. 
4<.  Ma.!    • 

48.  The  \\hitr-  Headed  Humer 
49    J5i».-:. 

50.  Tlit  Seoul  ••!'  I/one  Island 
51    S.I-  i  -        ware. 

oi,  HU-u-- 

.1  3    The]  ood>. 

'A    GM  :• 

63.  The  • 

56.  Ti- 

57.  Bu?  Siiitke  .he  Hir.Mii. 

58.  Mexican  Joo,  the  Snake  Char 
5'J.  Stead-,     Hand,       the    axarv-i- 

Banter. 
-,  Jack. 

rlet  Warrior. 

te.  The  sconi  c,f  I'ipyecano*. 
63.  Schinderhannes.    '  • 

of  Wolf  Glen. 
63.   Bulfalo  Jiiok,  Trui)i>er. 
65.  The  Scout  of  the  KJO  Grande, 
67.  The  Darinjf  Backwoodsmzin 


Tho  Cn-t'Jey  and  Bennett  Sons  Hoot 

6.  The  Jolly  VVlK'Wf  Son*  Bixik 

7.  Paul  !'r.y  Son^si^r. 

Munro's  Tan  Cent  l,etier  Wnt«r. 
Munro's  Ten  Cent  Cook  Book. 

MVJVRO'S  FftJ&JVCH  SE'ttJjKS,  JVO.  /. 

Being  an  Elementary  Grammar  of  the  French  I>aneua«e,  by  which  every  one  can  b 


1.  The  Social  Party  Son?  Book. 
U.  Tl-e  Yankee  Sailor  Song  Book 

3.  The  Russian  Bear  and  American  Eagle 

Soug  Book. 

4.  The  Bum*'  and  Moore's  Song  Book. 


Re 


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find  it  an  invaluable  Rocket  companion.     It  is  also  specially  adapted  r,8  a  clase-book 
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BALLADS  -OP~TH¥REVOLUTION. 

This  u  a  collection  of  rare  ballads  of  superior  excellence,  on  prominent  evenf^  ,.f  the 
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i*n  heroes  of  that  day.    A-monsr  otheni  *T°  the  followinir  i 

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horoiwn  and  self-sac,  ifice,  winch  the  whole  count 

Though  the  events  of  the  Revolution  pre.-ot. 

of  them  ar*  M  well  know.,  to  the  yonng ;  as  th-  •  |«« 

fore  been  rendered  mi.o  familiar  verse.    I  m«  r.-«,k  ia  iotei 
10  cent*  each.  !  " 

GEO.  MUNliO  &  Co.,  Puwwhera,  137  WiHiam  St.,  N.  > 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
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